


No Distance Left To Run

by neversaydie



Series: cock it and pull it [32]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Friendship, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, ben isn't abandoning anyone, pre-Episode 75, sammy vs his self esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: "There's one in your inbox. You don't even have to sign it, you can just type your name and press send."Ben has been doing the most with this contract shit tonight, and Sammy's so tired of it. He just wanted to end their time together on a high note, but Ben is like a dog with a bone and isn't letting him go that easily."If I read it and I still say no, will you stop?""Fine. For an hour."Sammy realises he's clicked on the wrong email and opened the wrong attachment far too late.[in which the boys run out of road]





	No Distance Left To Run

**Author's Note:**

> TW: one-line depiction of non-serious past self-harm.

"There's one in your inbox. You don't even have to sign it, you can just type your name and press send." 

Ben has been doing the  _ most  _ with this contract shit tonight, and Sammy's  _ so _ tired of it. He just wanted to end their time together on a high note, but Ben is like a dog with a bone and isn't letting him go that easily. 

"Merv even let me change-"

"If I read it and I still say no, will you stop?" He sighs wearily, pushing the lank hair out of his eyes for the hundredth time. He can't even remember the last time he tied it back properly.

Sammy left Emily's apartment last week and went back to his own, ignoring his friends' concern as he stopped taking care of himself the way he'd slowly started to when he was living in a real home. 

He hasn't been sleeping, staring at the blank ceiling and hearing Jack's cry from the void over and over - hallucinating night terrors of blackness crawling out of the corners of the room and engulfing him in darkness when he does pass out, through booze or exhaustion or the sleeping pills Mary handed him outside Rose's without a word. 

Mary looked him in the eye like she knew what he was thinking, and still didn't say anything. He'd take comfort in that, if he could take comfort in anything anymore.

"I'll… No, I won't stop. But I'll let it go for like, an hour," Ben is just as frazzled and wired as him, in an entirely different way, and Sammy forces himself to stay irritated instead of sympathetic as he looks his friend defiantly in the eye and swipes his phone open. "At least wait for a break so you can pretend to actually read it, dude."

"You wanted me to read it so bad, why not do it as soon as possible?" God, he sounds bitchy. This is the sort of thing Jack would have told him off for when they left the station for the night, made noises about not being  _ so  _ mean to the guests they didn't want to come back - despite the fact Shotgun just pulled in more ratings the more of an asshole he was.

Jack was always soft. Sammy hasn't felt softness for so long he's forgotten what it feels like. 

"Fine. We're gonna throw to a quick commercial, folks," Ben pokes the button hard (hard enough that he tries to shake his hand out under the desk without Sammy seeing, having smacked it hard enough to bruise) and gets up as soon as the jingle starts, throwing his headphones on the desk with none of his usual respect for the equipment. "I'm gonna take a piss."

"Fine," Sammy can feel the muscle in his jaw ticking from tension as he watches Ben leave, the set of his shoulders speaking of pain he shouldn't have to carry. He doesn't deserve any of this, all the shit Sammy's brought to his door - which he just took without asking for anything back, just like Jack shouldered all Sammy's burdens and -

He can't spin out about this now, not when they're limping through their last show and he needs to at least sign off with some kind of dignity. He owes Ben that much. He can just skim through this damn contract and delete it and - 

Sammy realises he's clicked on the wrong email and opened the wrong attachment far too late, when he's staring down at a meticulously-formatted schedule he'd still know in his sleep despite not seeing it for years. 

The shorthands are achingly familiar - Jack's interview segments are still pencilled in, highlighted in a different colour so they're easy to pick out for timing, a typed out smiley face next to the  _ J  _ at the bottom of the email. The last show they'd planned before… 

Sammy can't fucking breathe. 

"Dude, did you find the…" Ben trails off from the doorway when he gets a look at Sammy, clutching his phone so hard the case might crack. "Sammy?"

That first show without Jack was one of the worst nights of his life. Everyone at the studio had been so fucking awkward before they even went on air, because they had maybe suspected Sammy and Jack were closer than friends, but there's nothing like having the cops interview you about a missing person to bring everyone kicking and screaming out of the closet. 

The show itself had been terrible, dead air and a vague explanation about where his co-host had gone only leading to callers trying to needle more information out of Sammy and making things even worse as he floundered through his traumatised haze. Jason, the afternoon guy who'd always been a friend to him and Jack, had shown up about halfway through and stepped in without a word, and Sammy had to leave before he did something unforgivable like break down on the guy's shoulder. 

He'd had a full-blown panic attack on the drive home - pulled over onto the side of the highway and punched himself in the legs until he couldn't feel anything anymore. Given in to the furious fear Jack used to be the only one able to pull him out of. He'd been desperate, resorted to digging the swiss army knife out of the glove compartment (Jack kept a survival kit in the car despite the fact they never drove far outside LA, of course, because he always needed to be prepared) and scoring deep, bloody scratches into his forearm until he could breathe enough to get back on the road.

Even thinking about it makes him spiral, years later. He wouldn't even wish it on Frickard. 

"Hey, man. Breathe," Ben is crouching in front of him, prying the phone from his rigid fingers so he doesn't have to look at it anymore. "Sammy, breathe for me dude."

And that's all Ben has coming to him, if Sammy sticks around any longer. He's already been through it once with Emily, already lost it and clawed the pieces of himself back into something resembling a person and still been so brilliant - grown into a man Sammy's so fucking proud of and knows he can never, ever measure up to. 

He's not that brave, he's not that smart, he's not a fucking  _ hero  _ like Ben - all he's doing is dragging his best friend down into the muck with him where he's too tired to try and keep his head above water anymore and -

"Sammy, you're scaring me," Ben sounds so fucking young, pitchy and terrified, and Sammy feels a wave of guilt even through his panic for exposing him to this. After  _ everything _ they've been through, he can't stop hurting the people he loves. "I've gotta put a tape in, hold on a sec man. I'm right here."

He's fucking poison, he's cancer, he's an infection. He poisoned Jack from the inside out, made his life so tense with the secrecy of their relationship that it's no wonder he got obsessive and caught up in work to escape - that he'd rather expose himself to not existing anymore and be swallowed by the embodiment of nothingness than spend another minute in Sammy's world with - 

Suddenly there are strong arms around him, enveloping him in a firm, tight hug, and Sammy takes a shuddering breath for the first time in what feels like years. 

"I got you, Sammy. You're okay," Ben is scared as hell but trying to sound like he knows what he's doing, and Sammy raises a shaking hand to cling to his forearm because he knows exactly how that feels. "You're gonna be okay, I promise."

But he's not, and he knows that for a fact. The bone deep certainty that there are no options left, nowhere left to run, slowly washes over him as the panic fades. Ben holds him tight as he begins to breathe again - he's always been starved for touch, wouldn't allow himself to be tactile - and the  _ grief  _ of every hug he never gave Jack slams into him all at once like a car wreck. 

He's never getting him back, not here. Sammy knows he's out of road, that there's nowhere else to flee too. This is the end of the line, the ground coming up to meet him, and he's finally ready for impact. 

"Hey," Ben is stroking his hair, clumsy and genuine, and Sammy has to squeeze his eyes shut against threatening tears because nope, he's not going out like this. They were just fighting a few minutes ago, and now Ben is holding him like he  _ deserves  _ care and god, Sammy can't handle it. "You're okay, dude. It's just a panic attack, okay? It'll pass."

"C-Can you…" Sammy swallows hard and lets his lizard brain take over - the manipulative, selfish echo of Shotgun he's tried so hard to turn into something worth living for. As if anything could be without a heart beating in his chest. "Can, uh, can you grab me some water?"

"Sure, man. Whatever you need," Ben lets him go and just looks at him from arm's length for a second, squeezing Sammy's shoulders like he needs to make sure he's really there. 

And for a long, nauseous moment, Sammy almost tells him what he's planning. But for the first time in his life, he's all out of words. 

"I'll be right back," Ben hurries to the break room sink, not wanting to leave Sammy alone too long in case it makes it harder to calm down. 

He doesn't know much about panic attacks - aside from having a couple of mild ones himself back in college around finals - but this seems serious. He considers calling Emily, or Troy, or even his Mom - still young enough to instinctively want to find authority in a crisis - but takes a breath and firmly tells himself that he can handle this. They can handle this, him and Sammy.

They've had worse, they can get through this together. Hell, maybe he can even convince Sammy this is a reason not to leave - he's not going to let his friend walk away when he's hurting this badly. This is  _ not  _ how their last show ends.

Sammy might be trying his hardest to abandon him, but Ben isn't about to abandon anyone. Not ever. 

"Sammy?" 

Ben stops dead in the doorway, glass of water in hand. Sammy's chair is still moving, his phone is still on the desk, and the back door is open. 

No. No no no. 

It feels like moving in slow motion as Ben drops the water, not registering the glass smash as he runs to the door - but there's only the indifferent mountain outside. Sammy is gone, like he'd never even been there.

"Sammy?!"


End file.
